


Mish-pi

by Lysandra



Category: Bartimaeus - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Slut Shaming, Tentacles, these gentlemen do not deserve what I have done to them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:52:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12970158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysandra/pseuds/Lysandra
Summary: Bartimaeus and Faquarl are bored. That's why this happens, and nothing else.





	1. Chapter 1

The night watch was long and boring. That, presumably, was what led Bartimaeus to suggest what he did.

“You know how humans are always rubbing their bodies against one another?” he said. “You realize that, hypothetically, we could try it.”

Faquarl was immediately galled. “Repulsive,” he said. “Your degeneracy, Bartimaeus, continues to astound me.”

“Oh, relax,” said Bartimaeus. “If we’re forced into these bodies, we might as well use them. Why should _they_ have all the fun? Besides, it’s not as if anyone will _know_.”

Faquarl considered. Loathe as he was to admit it, Bartimaeus was right about several things: that the humans were obsessed with touching each other, and that it wasn’t anywhere near fair that they were allowed to do things for fun and their slaves were not, and that they both would have done anything to avoid enduring another mind-numbing hour of guard duty.

“If you tell anyone, I will separate you into so many pieces you’ll be a gas,” said Faquarl calmly. Bartimaeus smiled.

“That’s the spirit,” he said. “Now, how this is done, I believe-”

“I know how it’s done,” Faquarl said. “I’ve seen more of this sort of thing than I ever wanted or needed to.” It was true; when they didn’t see you as a person, they were comfortable doing truly horrible things in front of you.

“Is that so?” Bartimaeus hitched his skirt up around his hips, revealing the softest parts of his current physical form. “Go on, then. Why don’t you show me?”

It was so ludicrous it was almost funny. “Now, hold on a minute,” said Faquarl. “By what rights are you giving me instructions?”

“It was my idea, wasn’t it? You do me, and then I’ll do you,” said Bartimaeus. He sounded even smugger than usual.

“You idiot,” snapped Faquarl. “That’s not how this works at all! One of us has to go inside the other.”

“No! That bit’s optional. We could just do the rubbing part. Humans do that all the time. Much less messy, it seems to me.”

“I see how it is. You wouldn’t be able to take it, would you? I’d split you in two.”

“As if I’d let you inside me, anyway! Disgusting.”

“Well, part of you finds the idea agreeable, it seems.” Faquarl smirked, eyes down, and sure enough, he was half-hard already. Bartimaeus sputtered indignantly. Faquarl laughed and reached for his erection, tugging on it clumsily. Even his cock was pretty, Faquarl thought with moderate distaste. How much time had he put into carefully sculpting this form, even the parts that he had good reason to believe no one would ever see?

“Ouch! Not so rough.” Faquarl slowed down to more of a slow stroke.

“How is that?”

“That is... _ooh_. That’s f-fine.” He was stiffening rapidly in Faquarl’s palm, and by the way his pointlessly pretty face was screwing up, he was enjoying this. And the harder he got, the more he wiggled. He rocked his hips a little, pushing into the other spirit’s hand and closing his eyes. The pad of Faquarl’s thumb swept across what must have been as especially sensitive spot and a soft groan forced its way past Bartimaeus’s clenched teeth.

“What does it feel like?” Faquarl asked. He suddenly resented letting Bartimaeus take his turn first; he looked like he was having a grand time.

“ _Mmm._ ‘ll do you in a bit. Just - _ah_ \- keep doing that. Rub there, with your thumb- _oh, yes._ ”

“Must you wriggle like that? It looks ridiculous.”

“Would you stop talking? I’m trying to pretend you’re someone else.”

“As if anyone else could put aside their distaste long enough to actually touch you.” Bartimaeus opened his eyes. There was a brief flash of genuine anger there. Faquarl liked it when Bartimaeus got angry; it was the only time the whelp lived up to his origins, was almost worthy of calling the Other Place his home.

“Shut up,” he hissed, and kissed Faquarl on the mouth. He shoved his tongue past his teeth like he was trying to sample his last meal so that Faquarl almost choked. A mistake, as it turned out; this was wet and sticky and not especially enjoyable for either of them. Faquarl recoiled and quickly wiped his mouth on the back of his arm.

“Euch! What did you do that for?!”

“I don’t know; I always thought that was part of it.”

“Well, it was horrid!”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Bartimaeus thought for a moment. “Probably you’re just not any good at it.”

Faquarl ground his teeth. “You’re a fool,” he said, but his heart wasn’t in it. “Move, spread your legs a little.” The djinni settled between his rival’s spread thighs and returned to work. Bartimaeus grunted appreciatively. And there was silence, for a time, except for the sound of skin on skin and the occasional quiet moan from Bartimaeus.

Then, “I have another idea,” said Bartimaeus. He would deny that his voice quivered a bit.

“What?”

“...Put it in your mouth.”

“In my- that is bizarre. Really?”

“Go on. What are you afraid of? I’ll do it to you as well. Men are always begging their mistresses to do this to them; there must be _something_ to it.”

Faquarl grumbled, but he got awkardly to his knees, lowered his head and hesitantly licked at him a bit. He slipped the head of Bartimaeus’s cock past his lips. He didn’t taste of anything in particular.

“Hmm. That’s not doing much, actually. I think you’re supposed to suck- _oh, yes!_ That’s the ticket!”

Faquarl had started to do as he suggested, providing a gentle suction that, combined with the wet warmth of his mouth, was having quite the effect. Bartimaeus squirmed, tossing his head from side to side, suddenly overcome. How feeble he was, how easily moved.

“Yes, get your tongue- _oh_.” Bartimaeus’s voice cracked embarrassingly. He was holding on to Faquarl’s hair almost painfully tight. It irritated Faquarl, but he found himself disinclined to stop what he was doing. Surely it was best to get this over with. He opened his mouth a bit wider and took in more of the other spirit’s cock; he hissed with pleasure, canting his hips forward. The organ in Faquarl’s mouth was hot and hard. It was, for all intents and purposes, identical to the genuine human article. He could even feel it throbbing gently against his tongue like the heartbeat Bartimaeus didn’t have.

The action of Faquarl’s mouth made a vulgar wet sound as Bartimaeus pushed into it. The receiving djinni was starting to tense, and just when Faquarl’s jaw was beginning to ache, Bartimaeus gave a howl of pleasure and the flesh in Faquarl’s mouth twitched. A small amount of viscous fluid pulsed onto his tongue; it was slightly slippery and tasted of nothing.

Bartimaeus stilled gradually, letting the shudders work their way out of him. He sighed and pushed Faquarl’s head away. “You can stop. I’m done.”

Faquarl pulled away. There was an unbecoming amount of saliva in and around his mouth. He swallowed. “So?” He prompted, raising an eyebrow. He stood, brushing the dirt off his knees. This would be easier, he supposed, if they had a bed, but they were not afforded that much luxury.

“That was really good,” Bartimaeus conceded. “The end part- that was almost like the way the dismissal spell feels. A sort of _relief_...” He grinned sheepishly.

“I suppose it’s my turn, then.”

“Oh. Yeah. Actually, now that I think about it…”

“I knew it was a mistake to let you go first,” Faquarl sighed. “You can’t be trusted with anything.”

Bartimaeus bristled. “That’s not true,” he insisted.

“Prove it,” said Faquarl. “Put your money where your mouth is.” To emphasize his point, he got rid of his guise’s clothes.

“You could at least _try_ with your guises,” Bartimaeus snapped. “There’s no need to be so...difficult to look at.”

“What,” said Faquarl. “Are you saying you usually find humans nice to look at?”

“Nicer than you,” he retorted.

Faquarl lifted his chin. “We had an agreement,” he said. “Go on. Suck it.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I am telling you,” said Faquarl, slowly and clearly. “Get on your knees.” Something gave in Bartimaeus; perhaps he was so used to following orders that he simply didn’t know how to negotiate anymore. Perhaps he actually got some twisted enjoyment from obeying. Or perhaps he’d simply decided that the eight or so minutes of oral sex he’d already promised weren’t worth a proper squabble. Whatever the case, he sank down, knees to the ground, and looked up at the part of Faquarl’s anatomy that was currently on eye level.

“You could always take a woman’s form, you know,” said Bartimaeus, but he was already licking his way up Faquarl’s inner thigh. Faquarl made a noncommittal noise. Like Bartimaeus, he more often preferred a male shape; there was something about it that resonated more closely with the peculiar texture of his essence. But Bartimaeus’s interest in beautiful women was odd; Faquarl mentally filed it away for later mockery.

No more hesitation; Bartimaeus sucked Faquarl’s cock into his mouth. _Oh._ That _was_ good, warm and wet and tingly, and he started to get hard under his tongue immediately. He understood now, vaguely, why this was something that humans would devote so much time to seeking out.

Neither pain nor pleasure existed in the Other Place, of course, but here on Earth there existed both extremes, and there was no reason that he could see not to exploit the end of the spectrum that was actually enjoyable. Faquarl was rocking forward now, as Bartimaeus had, shoving the length of his cock into the other djinni’s mouth. It was gratifying, watching him choke a little. His tongue lashed against Faquarl’s sensitive skin; Faquarl made a noise involuntarily. More. He needed more.

Faquarl seized his hair savagely and thrust forward, fucking Bartimaeus’s mouth; it was a very fortunate thing for both of them that he didn’t need to breathe. Bartimaeus’s dark eyes watered, but he didn’t pull away; rather, he dug the nails of his left hand into Faquarl’s thigh.

“I’ll give you one thing, Bartimaeus,” he ground out. “You do look good on your knees.” He was certain Bartimaeus would have retorted, but, alas, his mouth was full. Faquarl grunted. It was almost possible to forget that this body of his was but a temporary construction, it felt that good, his essence warm and throbbing gently. He could feel himself driving toward the same crazed peak that Bartimaeus had reached earlier, the pleasure coiling hot and tight in his belly. Faquarl pulled Bartimaeus forward so his nose was pressed against his pubic bone; he made a sound that was half a gag and half a moan.

Faquarl rocked his hips.

“ _Yes…_ ” He was almost there, almost to the point of satisfaction. Bartimaeus’s tongue bathed him, his cheeks hollowed as he sucked hard, and then, finally, Faquarl felt it. It was like being torn apart in the best way possible, the way hot lightning seemed to flash through his essence. His back arched; he shouted as he pumped into Bartimaeus’s mouth. _Yes, yes, yes._ Just for a moment, he didn’t have to think about his predicament: not about pain, or about hatred, or about the ever-present emptiness that had started long ago and had been with him since. He was simply wrapped in pleasure, his essence shot through with it, and then it was over, just as soon as it had begun.

He slipped out of Bartimaeus’s mouth, suddenly disgusted with himself. Bartimaeus coughed. He didn’t meet Faquarl’s eyes as he wiped his mouth with the back of a hand. Had they really needed to- well, it was over now.

“Alright,” said Bartimaeus, clearing his throat awkwardly as he got to his feet. “Glad we had this talk.”

“Quite.” Faquarl was in an unusually good mood all of a sudden; he’d seen Bartimaeus’s weakness and was thinking how best to exploit it. “We’ll have to discuss this again some day.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” said Bartimaeus primly.

“Oh, I would,” said Faquarl, flashing a pointed tooth. Who else would be willing to batter their way through his belligerence to give him what he truly wanted? No one, of course.

And that meant that Faquarl had the upper hand once again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh.

Bordeaux in the autumn was wet.

It was a warm sort of wet, golden and gloomy. The 19th century had brought new prosperity to the port city, and that was apparent everywhere you looked. It was especially apparent in the overseas goods that Faquarl and Bartimaeus had been charged to deliver to their master’s cellar. They went like overburdened pack mules with the cart that they’d been afforded. The crates, it was presumed, contained the usual frivolities: spices, wine, medicine. Faquarl didn’t care enough to look. When they reached the cellar, the two of them took up the task of stacking the crates together. Anything broken, and they’d be punished dearly. It was this fear that kept them something close to quiet, until Bartimaeus, as always, opened his mouth.

“And how have you found your master?” Bartimaeus asked. As always, the foolish djinni was primped up like a preening peacock. His curly golden hair was loose about his shoulders, his eyes wide and green as the sea, his features fine. He walked with an irritating swagger that made Faquarl want to deck him. Faquarl himself had chosen a far more practical form: a swarthy gentleman who was as muscular as he was rotund, and weathered from months at sea. He was nearly invisible on the French streets, an enormous boon that Bartimaeus seemed oblivious to. The idiot seemed blissful at the occasional gasps and giggles that the young ladies (and some of the men) gave him as they passed.

Faquarl shrugged. “I’ve had worse. But he is young and foolish and thinks far too highly of himself. He’ll get his soon enough. And yours?”

“Ugly as sin and twice as violent.”

“A drunk?”

Bartimaeus’s brow creased. “A teetotaler,” he said. Faquarl clucked sympathetically. Masters who drank too much could be bad, but far worse were the ones who didn’t drink at all. “He might be a genuine sadist. Haven’t had one of those in a while. He’s a bit too handy with the punishments, and he’s never satisfied until he’s damn near brought me to my knees.”

Faquarl felt a small smile curving the corners of his mouth as he anticipated the reaction his next words would invoke.

“As I recall,” he said, “you quite _enjoy_ being on your knees.”

Bartimaeus dropped the crate in his arms. It hit the packed-down dirt with a loud thump; several of the boards popped out of place or splintered. Bartimaeus wedged his hands against his hips and glowered at Faquarl, his eyes stormy.

“I just knew you were going to bring that up,” he snapped. “Let me tell you, if _what we did_ reflects badly on me, it’s not looking good for you, either.”

“I’m not the one who suggested it, am I?” Faquarl purred. Bartimaeus was toeing the line between anger and embarrassment. Oh, he puffed himself out well enough, but his eyes darted awkwardly around, meeting with Faquarl’s in only brief snatches. “I agreed, certainly, but you were the one who wanted it. Tell me, have you sucked many more cocks since last we met?”

“Absolutely not, and I think you know that!”

“Ah, so it’s as I suspected. It’s only _mine_ that you’re interested in.” In response to this, Bartimaeus’s mouth popped open and his eyes bulged. Just for a second, he looked as though he was going to start a brawl. That would have been a first - Bartimaeus was never the one to deal the first blow, and Faquarl waited eagerly to see what he would do. He liked the thought of getting under his skin that much, really making him lose control. But in a moment he’d collected himself, and his aura settled, and he shrugged.

“I think I know why you brought this up,” he said, inspecting his fingernails. “You’re hoping for round two, eh? Nice to know I’m just that good.”

Faquarl snorted. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? I remember-”

“Oh, don’t you start-”

“I _remember_ , dear Bartimaeus, how you moaned when I gagged you. How much you liked letting me use that mouth of yours.”

“Do you _mind?_ Someone will hear!”

Faquarl smirked. Bartimaeus had a point, but somehow he doubted that the tremor in his voice came from fear. They stared each other down, incensed and aroused. Bartimaeus sighed and dragged one of his big toes through the dirt.

“Look. That was a one-off. If you think I make a habit of going around propositioning spirits for sexual favors, you are sorely mis-”

Faquarl crossed the small basement in a matter of seconds. He seized Bartimaeus by the hips and lifted him bodily onto a nearby stack of crates. Bartimaeus squawked at that, but didn’t resist. On the contrary, he twisted to sink his teeth into Faquarl’s neck, and the spark of pain made heat flare in his loins. Faquarl made to fiddle with Bartimaeus’s belt, intending merely to pull his trousers down, but Bartimaeus made things easy for him and banished his clothes altogether. Perched there naked, he hooked an ankle over Faquarl’s shoulder and reeled him in.

Up close, Faquarl was able to more carefully observe the color and texture of his rival’s essence. He was smaller and slighter than Faquarl himself, but dense with energy, burning bright. He was almost delicate, like a candle flame where Faquarl was a mountain of smouldering coals. There was, somewhere beneath Faquarl’s general distaste, a desire to grab and break and _possess._ Faquarl took his cock in hand, and Bartimaeus arched into the touch, sighing.

“That’s it,” he urged. “Play with the tip. Use your thumb...”

“Don’t get bossy,” said Faquarl, but he found that spot under the head of his cock and traced rapid little circles on it. Bartimaeus’s hips moved erratically. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to end up on the floor.

“Not bossy. Efficient. _Oh…_ ”

“Sensitive there?”

“ _Yes._ ”

The hand that wasn’t currently occupied was supporting Bartimaeus’s slim thigh, but Faquarl released him and ran his fingers up to his groin. “Scoot forward a bit,” he said.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Bartimaeus held onto Faquarl’s body and shuffled forward a bit; Faquarl took advantage of the angle to press one of his fingers against Bartimaeus’s ass. They locked eyes and Bartimaeus licked his lips.

“Damn,” he said. “Fine. Go for it. Wait!”

“What?” Faquarl was working little circles against the opening, impatient.

“Spit on your fingers or something, at least. I’m no masochist, me.”

Faquarl started to raise his calloused fingers to his mouth, but then he got an idea. He shoved two of them past Bartimaeus’s lips instead. The djinni’s tongue laved over his fingers, and Faquarl’s eyes fell half-shut; he enjoyed the way the sensation seemed to shoot right to his cock - which, by this point, was tenting his trousers uncomfortably. But he could wait a moment longer. Faquarl removed his fingers and Bartimaeus grabbed his wrist to spit on them deliberately.

“Right,” he said. “Proceed.”

The first finger went in easily enough. He felt Bartimaeus’s body tense around him and he made a quiet, startled sound. Faquarl stroked his erection with his free hand, and after a moment of probing, Bartimaeus seemed to relax, his head falling back against the earthen wall.

“Ah,” he breathed. “That is…”

“Painful?”

“Ha! No. Could you sort of wiggle your finger like- _ah!_ That’s it; that’s the spot….” Bartimaeus was moving again, his hips twitching back and forth. “Feels good,” he said, smiling a little. “Feels _full_.”

Faquarl pressed his other slick finger against the djinni’s opening and pressed in, and Bartimaeus moaned. He worked them in and out, feeling Bartimaeus flex around him rhythmically.

“Faster,” Bartimaeus grunted. Faquarl decided that this had been a one-sided endeavor for far too long. He pulled his fingers out and, ignoring Bartimaeus’s whine of protest, bundled him to the floor. He held him face-down, palms against his upper arms and kneeling on the backs of his thighs, while he undressed himself. But that split-second of concentration was all Bartimaeus needed; he managed to jerk hard enough to disturb Faquarl’s balance and, as he struggled to adjust, flip him onto his back. Bartimaeus crouched on top of him, the tips of their noses mere inches apart. Faquarl paused a moment to strategize.

“Now, listen here,” said Bartimaeus seriously. “You may get off on throwing me around like a rag doll, but I’ll have no more of that. _I’m_ going to be on top.”

Faquarl opened his mouth to protest, but Bartimaeus interrupted. “Do you want this ass or not?” Faquarl wanted to kill him.

“Fine,” Faquarl managed. “But don’t you try anything.” Bartimaeus smiled. He straightened, settling himself with his thighs on either side of Faquarl’s. It was honestly sickening how he preened, clearly intending to put on a show. He straightened his neck, arching his back a little. One hand found his cock and he stroked himself a little as Faquarl shifted under him, anxious to get on with it. They’d see how smug he looked when he was stuffed full of cock.

“Yes, hold _on_ ,” Bartimaeus snapped, smacking Faquarl’s chest with his unoccupied hand. “Patience is a virtue.”

“So is opening your damn legs,” Faquarl growled. He seized Bartimaeus’s hips and squeezed; not hard enough to damage him, but probably enough to hurt a little.

“I’m fairly certain that promiscuity is the polar opposite of a virtue in nearly every modern culture.”

“Bartimaeus!”

“Oh, _yes._ Say my name.” Bartimaeus stroked Faquarl’s chest. He gritted his teeth. The little _imp_ was really enjoying this. Bartimaeus put a finger to his lips. “Actually,” he said. “Something has occurred to me.”

“This is going to be dry.” Faquarl had just come to the same realization.

“Ah, no worries. We’ll do the spit again. You’re, er...losing turgidity, anyway.”

Faquarl pressed the palm of one of his hands against his forehead in aggravation. It was true; being extremely irritated was not doing wonders for his state of arousal. Bartimaeus wriggled down Faquarl’s body until he was kneeling between his legs; Faquarl propped himself up on his elbows to watch. Bartimaeus caught his eye, gave him a cheeky wink, and slipped his cock into his mouth.

Now _that_ was more like it. He looked good there, bobbing up and down with his mouth full, long hair trailing over Faquarl’s thighs - like a Babylonian courtesan. Faquarl groaned appreciatively at the heat and suction of his mouth, his arousal building again. Bartimaeus seemed to have a certain natural talent for this: his sharp tongue was good for more than just witticisms, it seemed. He gave Faquarl a moment longer, and then released him with a wet pop, making sure to thoroughly coat him in saliva. By all rights, it should have been disgusting, but Faquarl was realizing that it was impossible to see things rationally when one was aroused. To be perfectly honest, that explained a good chunk of human behavior.

“Alright. Let me see…” Bartimaeus straddled Faquarl again; this time he took hold of his cock and lowered himself slowly. The thick head pressed against his opening for a moment, and then he was slowly but surely slipping inside.

“ _O Goddess Inanna_ ,” Bartimaeus gasped out. Faquarl was relatively still; he didn’t want to risk moving and having the brat reject him. Instead he was patient as Bartimaeus slowly ground himself open, the muscles in his abdomen flexing. If it hurt, he gave no indication; instead, his eyes got wider and wider until Faquarl was fully seated inside him. It was a unique sensation: his prick was wrapped in hot tightness, and every time Bartimaeus tensed he could feel himself being squeezed. Then Bartimaeus started to move.

He started slowly, shifting back and forth. Faquarl shifted under him, drawing his knees up so he could thrust up into the body of the blond man. It was awkward; their movements didn’t coordinate the way he imagined they were supposed to and there was a solid five minutes of shifting and rocking and occasional cursing as they sought out a rhythm, occasionally finding one only to lose it a second later. It was a reminder that this act was not at all natural to them: surely human beasts never had to learn how to copulate. But then Bartimaeus began moving his hips in earnest. He ground himself down furiously, using his body to hold Faquarl pinned against the earth, and like this he settled into a groove. His hands rested against Faquarl’s chest and his head tipped back, lips parted slightly. He looked almost graceful as he rode Faquarl, his hips moving sinuously and his back arching. Faquarl had a sudden vision of him decked in jewelry, bangles and necklaces that would shift and jangle with the motion. Faquarl swallowed a moan and Bartimaeus choked on a cry.

”This feels so good,” he groaned. “I _hate_ it.” Faquarl could relate. In terms of sheer base earthliness, this was second only to just eating mud. It was not something that beings such as themselves were meant to do, but the way it felt made it maddeningly difficult to resist.

Bartimaeus rode him hard, tipping his hips forward occasionally to rub his erection against Faquarl’s stomach. Whenever Faquarl started to counter his movements with one of his own, Bartimaeus would press him down or spit out a curse. He was utterly shameless, Faquarl thought, in taking what he wanted.

“By the way, Faquarl, you were almost - _ah!_ \- right.”

“What?”

“I haven’t sucked any cocks. But I did meet this Roman girl, and we had a little play, and I came while she rode my face. And I liked it much more than what I did to _you._ ”

Oh.

 _Now_ he was going to get it.

Faquarl’s hands tightened on the other djinni’s hips and he was rolling them bodily, throwing Bartimaeus back onto the dirty floor of the basement. He seized Bartimaeus’s throat, just below his jaw, and forced his head back against the earth as he guided himself back inside him. Bartimaeus gave an almost hysterical laugh. His eyes were wild.

“You,” Faquarl panted, giving another pointed thrust. “Are a pretty. Painted. _Whore_.”

“You really think I’m pretty?” Bartimaeus choked. His cock was rock-hard, flushed and leaking onto his belly. Faquarl was almost impressed that he still had the coherence to make jokes. Well, he was going to fix that. Faquarl seized Bartimaeus’s thighs and pulled him savagely toward him; he pounded into him as hard as he could without breaking him, and the djinni cried out, a harsh bark of a noise. Bartimaeus’s fingers scrabbled against the ground, and one hand slipped between his thighs to wrap loosely around his cock.

“No,” said Faquarl. “Don’t touch.”

Bartimaeus ignored him and pulled at himself, moaning thickly. Faquarl gritted his teeth. He needed to learn to listen to his betters. With his hands occupied, he decided to get creative; he manifested a handful of his tentacles on the first plane. They were thick and slippery, a blue-green color, with suckers on the underside. They sprouted from his shoulders like wings, half a dozen in total, and without warning, Faquarl used two to seize Bartimaeus’s wrists and pin them above his head, the others twisted restlessly in midair like coiled serpents.

“What are you _doing?_ ” Bartimaeus hissed. “I was almost there!” Bartimaeus tugged frantically, trying to free his hands, but Faquarl had the positional advantage, and Bartimaeus had the distinct disadvantage of being on the very verge of climax. He moaned helplessly, thrashing under Faquarl.

“You can come,” said Faquarl. “But you need to ask nicely first. I want to hear you say ‘please’.”

His aura was streaked with a brilliant salmon-pink that Faquarl had never seen on any other spirit; that was, he had realized, because it was the color invoked by arousal. Bartimaeus sputtered out an obscene invective.

“Or,” said Faquarl, “You can make this difficult. As you always do.”

“I hate you,” Bartimaeus spat. He heaved under the bulk of Faquarl’s body. He was so warm and tight. He arched his back, teeth gritted, in an attempt to rub his erection against Faquarl’s body, failed, moaned hoarsely.

“Just say the word,” said Faquarl. He was being annoyingly stubborn. Faquarl decided to up the ante; he selected one of the manifested tentacles, a short one of medium thickness, and used it to caress Bartimaeus’s inner thigh, so close to where he wanted it. He looked delicious there, hands above his head, slick with sweat.

“Faquarl! Just-!” He hooked one leg around Faquarl’s hip for leverage and attempted to rearrange their position, but Faquarl distracted him by shoving his wandering tentacle inside him alongside Faquarl’s cock. Bartimaeus’s mouth fell open again; his eyes rolled. It had to be quite the stretch, Faquarl thought with some amusement, but the heel pressed against Faquarl’s backside dug in deep and Bartimaeus arched into him. “Fucked senseless” was truly a good look on him.

“Just say ‘please’,” Faquarl panted. He was drawing close to the end, here. “That’s all you have to do. Then I’ll give it to you. Just let go of your ridiculous ego. Surrender to me.”

“ _Bastard_ ,” Bartimaeus hissed. A pointed thrust and curl of tentacle made him cry out again. “Just let me…”

“Say it.”

“I won’t.”

“ _Say it!_ ”

“Fuck! Ah! _Please!_ ”

Faquarl grinned. And shoved yet another tentacle into Bartimaeus’s mouth. His eyes widened, then squeezed tight shut when he felt one of Faquarl’s hands closing around his cock at last. Faquarl stroked him quickly, feeling the thrum of excitement running through his essence. Bartimaeus came with a swallowed scream, back bowing off the dirt, hands clawed into Faquarl’s shoulders so hard that it cut at his skin. His cock pulsed, squeezed tight in Faquarl’s grip, and his face was a rictus of pleasure, eyes screwed tight shut. He squeezed tight around Faquarl’s prick and, with a low groan, Faquarl allowed himself his own release: the sensation of spilling inside the warmth and tightness of the other djinni made stars pop out in his field of vision. They moved together more slowly for a moment, the urgency gone, until-

“What’s all the ruckus down- oh. Oh, dear me, what are you _doing?_ ”

Bartimaeus and Faquarl stared at the poor foliot who’d wandered downstairs onto the scene. The creature was squat and black and stared at them, eyes bugging out of his head, as they lay still partially-entangled. It wasn’t a good look: two djinn of wildly differing degrees of power and nobility, horizontal and sweaty with their genitals haphazardly mashed together. The fact that Faquarl still had several tentacles shoved inside Bartimaeus did not improve things. Bartimaeus spat out the one in his mouth; it slid limply down his cheek.

“I hope you worked up an appetite,” said Faquarl, and lifted a hand.

**Author's Note:**

> "Mish-pi" is the name of a Mesopotamian cultic ritual, but it literally means "mouth-washing". I'm going to hell.


End file.
